


The Lotor One

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Langst, Sick Character, Sick Lance, Sickfic, lance is a badass, prisoner lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A PHENOMENAL prompt from an anon on tumblr who requested Lance being captured by Lotor and falling ill while in his prison.





	The Lotor One

It was unfair that they’d only just gotten Shiro back and now Lance was gone. 

The paladins were doing everything in their power to get him back from Lotor, but it had taken a long time to find him. Unlinke the Galra prisons, located on planet surfaces, Lotor had a castle ship not unlike Allura’s, which meant that he was mobile, and now that he’d gotten hold of Lance, he had no intentions of letting him go without a fight.

Or, in Prince Lotor’s case, not without a search.

“Fucking coward,” became Pidge’s mantra with every quadrant of space that she searched that came up negative for signs of human body temperature. 

* * *

“Blue paladin,” Lotor drawled, “Why so quiet?” 

Lance did not want to admit weakness, not to Lotor–he’d use it against him in a heartbeat. But he felt like hell. Everything ached, and the bone-deep shuddering was likely not due to the moderate temperature of the castle. Lance had been on a downhill slide for the past few days, promising himself that it was just stress, but now there was no more getting around it–he was ill.

He was curled up on his side in the prison cell, and couldn’t even muster up the energy to turn toward the Prince to make his request, though he knew that it would likely be denied because of that very reason.

“I need water,” he rasped. God, his voice sounded terrible–bad enough that even Lotor’s eyebrow quirked.

“Is that how you address royalty?” he asked. Lance coughed, not feeling as if he could respond, and Lotor caved to the beautiful boy–he had developed a soft spot for his prisoner. “You,” he pointed at a guard, “fetch water for the prisoner.”

* * *

“I found a heat signature,” Pidge replied, sounding hesitant.

Allura and Coran perked up. “Lance?” Allura asked.

“Maybe?” Pidge replied. “I’m not confident.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, human body temperature is around 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit,” Pidge explained, “and most of the aliens we’ve encountered run much cooler than that. My parameters have been set to 96 and above, to accommodate hypothermia. But here, I’ve found one that’s registering.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Coran pressed. 

“It’s way too high.”

“So, what does that mean?” Allura asked. 

“It means that it’s either not Lance,” Pidge replied, “or that we’d better fucking hurry.”

* * *

By the time the water was delivered, Lance was too weak to drink it. 

“You asked for water,” Lotor said irritably, “and I have mercifully provided you with it. Drink.” Lance used what remained of his energy to roll over to face Lotor and the cup of water that was sitting on the ground in front of him. His bleary eyes were barely able to focus on it, and he lost consciousness for several seconds with just the effort of reaching out for the glass. When Lance came to, the glass was on its side and the water was spilled.

“This is how you repay my kindness?” Lotor asked, a dangerous edge to his tone. Lance coughed deeply, wetly. “And what is that sound you keep making? You’ve never made it before.”

Lance blinked heavily at the Prince. “Let me go,” he pleaded, a bit of fire behind his tone. Finally, Lotor looked a bit pleased. 

“There’s my favorite prisoner,” he smirked. “I want to play.”

Lance winced. His head was throbbing and Lotor’s games were never fun.

“Play?” Lance echoed, trying his damndest not to show Lotor that he wasn’t feeling well. 

“Play,” Lotor repeated. “With you, my pet. Sit up.” Lance did as he was told, lulling to the side heavily, nearly falling unconscious once more, but managing to stay upright with the help of a wall and the sheer force of his own will. “For the chance to earn your freedom.” 

Oh. So it was another trick. There was no way he would really–

“But I must warn you,” Lotor continued, “only one other prisoner of my hundreds and hundreds has ever earned her freedom this way.”

At that, Lance’s fuzzy head cleared just a bit.

“M’listening,” he slurred. He couldn’t help it–his teeth were chattering. 

“They always are,” Lotor smirked. Follow me.”

* * *

“You really think this could be Lance?” Hunk asked for the third time in ten miuntes. He desperately wanted to believe that it was, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he could handle the disappointment if it turned out that it wasn’t.

“I’m not sure,” Pidge answered. “For his sake, I almost hope not.” The heat signature had been nearly off the parameters of the ninet degree range that she’d entered, and if that body truly was Lance’s–well, they’d deal with that when they got there.

“Everyone ready?” Shiro verified into the comms. For months and months, the Black Lion had sat in the hangar depressed, knowing that her pilot was missing. She’d let Allura take over for the time being, but it didn’t fill the void–the omnipresent sense of loss that emanated from the Lion invaded their thoughts constantly. Now, if possible, Blue’s was even worse. She was keening in the hangar, not only missing her pilot but missing any pilot at all, feeling the sense of abandonment as the other four took off in search of Lance while she was left to grieve. The ambiguous loss plagued her–she knew he was out there, but she wanted him _here_ , and that was almost more fucking painful than if Lotor had just killed him instead. To destroy something was one thing, but to steal it and ruin it–that was something else entirely. 

Voltron took off without a leg. 

* * *

“You may pick any fighter in this room, and any weapon,” Lotor explained. Lance was leaning heavily against a wall, willing himself not to pass out. The fever was getting high, he could tell, and every movement was grey and painful. His lungs ached as he pulled air into them. 

Lance’s eyes darted from soldier to soldier, eyeing the three large Galra in front of him, before looking blearily back to Lotor. 

“Any fighter?” Lance clarified. Lotor nodded. “Then I choose you.” 

Lotor smirked, reaching for his robe and unfastening it to reveal chiseled abs and surprising biceps. When the robe fell to the ground completely, Lance could see that even his thighs were toned and terrifying. “I hoped you’d say that,” he teased. “Choose a weapon.” 

Lance glanced at the selection in front of him and frowned. “I want my bayard,” he replied, the words sounding soft and cottony on his lips. 

“Sorry,” Lotor said sarcastically, reaching to the servant behind him to grab said weapon, “Home team gets first choice.” He pointed the gun straight at Lance’s face. “Choose wisely,” Lotor advised, never looking at Lance through anything but the viewfinder. Lance’s hands trembled above the weapons. He’d never be able to do any close-range combat in his condition, he knew. He selected a gun, something similar to his own but achingly not the same, and nodded to Lotor. The battle would commence, and he knew it might kill him.

* * *

Team Voltron landed.

“Well goddamn,” Pidge whispered. The castle was impressive, tall and nearly all blindingly white, save for a few classy black accents on the windows. It was mind-bendingly huge.

“It sure seems like somewhere Lotor would live,” Hunk observed with cautious optimism.

Pidge opened the GPS system on her helmet and frowned. “It’s gone,” she informed.

“What is?” Keith asked. 

“The heat signature. It’s not registering anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Shiro demanded gently. 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It might be a malfunction on my system. But if it is Lance, then it means that we’re going to have to find him on our own.” 

Shiro nodded. “We should split up,” he decided. “Hunk with Pidge, and Keith with me.” Keith walked after Shiro while Pidge trotted to keep up with Hunk’s urgent pace in the opposite direction. They were going to _find their friend_ , damn it, if it was the last thing they did.

* * *

Lance couldn’t help but feel begrudgingly impressed–his bayard could do some serious damage, even when wielded by an ametuer. It was bruising his chest through his armor; the bronze armor that Lotor had dressed him in, not the white to which he was accustomed. His own weapon was lacking the same fire power, but it was working well–if only he could aim it. His vision was weaving in and out, blurring and focusing as his focal point waxed and waned. Lotor was mostly a blur, adn while he could aim for the general figure, it was too hard to hope to hit any particular part of his body, which meant a lot of bullets were either easily dodged or hitting non-critical parts of him.

But still, he had to get out. He had to leave, to go home, to see his friends and some day maybe his family again. He owed it to them to not die in here. Maybe he didn’t owe the universe anything, but he owed his fucking mother a proper goodbye, and he’d deliver. Lance wished that something more profound than wanting to see his mama again was what allowed his vision to focus for the single, solitary second it took to hit Lotor in the dead center of the forehead through his helmet, but it was what it was, and he couldn’t make himself feel upset about it as Lotor collapsed unconscious in front of him.

“There he is!” Lance could have sworn that he heard Keith shout before everything went black and he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

* * *

When Shiro saw the arena in front of him and the Galran Prince lying collapsed inside of it, he felt a sense of overwhelming pride swell inside of him, vortexing with the sense of terror and dread. Lance had done what Shiro had done so many times–survied in the ring against the Galra. 

But Lace wasn’t emerging looking relieved and victorious as Shiro always had–instead, he was collapsing into a heap on the ground. 

“There he is!” Keith shouted, but Shiro’s legs were alreday taking him to the blue paladin’s side.

Shiro dropped to his knees beside Lance, prying open his bronze armor. 

“Lance, buddy, can you hear me?” Shiro asked. Lance’s head lolled to one side, but he cracked open an eye affirmatively. “Did they hurt you?” 

Lance shook his head, but Shiro could see that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t press it for now–they had to get out of here.

“Hunk, Pidge,” Shiro called into the comms, “We’ve got him.”

“Really?” Hunk’s relieved voice sounded like he was nearly crying. 

“Yeah. Come meet us–he’s hurt. I don’t think he can walk.”

Pidge hummed confusedly. “That’s weird,” she observed. “You and Keith’s heat signatures are showing up on my GPS, but Lance’s isn’t.” Shiro frowned. Maybe he’d lost too much blood already, hypothermic from shock. 

“Shiro,” Lance interrupted before he could say anything, “can we go home?” His voice–the congestion, the sandy quality, the absolute orangeness of it all–something wasn’t right.

Shiro pressed a hand to Lance’s forehead and winced. “Pidge,” he prompted cautiously, “what are your temperature parameters set to?” 

Pidge hesitated, checking her numbers. “Anything from 96 to 105,” she informed, “Why?”

“Fuck,” Shiro cursed just as Lance started to seize in his arms. “Get here _now_.”

Shiro could do nothing but stroke Lance’s hair as he seized, the heat of fever pouring off him so intensely that Shiro felt panic well in his chest. “It’s okay,” Shiro comforted, wishing with everything he had that they’d found him a week earlier, a day earlier, a fucking hour earlier. “We’ve got you now. You’re with us now.”

* * *

The week that Lance spent in the pods was tense, almost as tense as the month and a half he’d been gone. Blue had calmed significantly knowing that he was back in the paladins’ care, but her constant thrumming of worry was still fluttering in the back of everyone’s minds. He was safe, she knew, safer than he had been, as safe as he could be. And he would be protected.


End file.
